


My hands are covered in blood (but that’s okay as long as it is for protecting you)

by Alexander_Wesker



Series: Sanely Insane [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, As we all know Bruce can very well defend himself, BAMF Jeremiah Valeska, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, He'd do anything for Bruce anything, Jeremiah Valeska has a knife and he isn't afraid to use it, M/M, Pre-Slash, Protective Jeremiah Valeska, Soft Jeremiah Valeska, but Jeremiah doesn’t know and after Jerome’s death starts training to defend his friend, the One Bad Spray didn't happen, this two are so oblivious...my god, ‘You are my very best friend’ quote used in a different contest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27886831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexander_Wesker/pseuds/Alexander_Wesker
Summary: Jeremiah Valeska is a genius, a recluse engineer. He may look like Jerome, they are twins after all, but he isn’t even half as dangerous as him. Well…wasn’t half as dangerous as him.
Relationships: Jeremiah Valeska & Bruce Wayne, Jeremiah Valeska/Bruce Wayne
Series: Sanely Insane [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2046725
Comments: 4
Kudos: 62





	My hands are covered in blood (but that’s okay as long as it is for protecting you)

Jerome had been dead, well dead again to be precise, for two months, more or less, now. His  _last surprise_ , the last  _gift_ , he had left Jeremiah had failed, quite miserably too. As Jeremiah never even saw it, because seriously… did his brother and his associates really thought that the police would have let him go back to his maze, position of which was widely know to at least two if not three dangerous maniacs (as Jonathan Crane and Jervis Tetch), while Jerome’s cultists were searching far and wide for him, as they wanted his head on a spike for ‘having killed their beloved leader’? 

_Which wasn’t true_ , Jeremiah had done nothing, bar for writhing on the stage after his brother had kicked him plenty in the stomach,  _and all thanks for Jerome’s final demise were to be given to James Gordon, but try to tell that to that mass of crazy psychopaths that saw Jerome as a Messiah._

Anyway, Jerome was dead, he had been for a while and didn’t give any sign of a possible re-resurrection, and Jeremiah was safer than he had ever been. Working on his last project, founded by Wayne Enterprises, and wasn’t that fantastic? Jeremiah thought it was fantastic, wonderous, marvelous and many more synonyms of the word, as it meant that he for once didn’t have to keep a budget in mind as his founds were quite literally unlimited as long as the generators worked as he said they would.

Also by working with Wayne Enterprises, he had more than an occasion to work, and meet, Bruce Wayne, in a situation that wasn’t of peril, so another point in favor to that in his mind. As Bruce’s company was… well, Jeremiah wasn’t exactly sure on how to define it, but he felt much happier when Bruce was there, and his praises made him feel like he could touch the sky with his bare fingers and that had never happened before.

Slowly as the days passed, Bruce had wormed his way up into Jeremiah’s highly guarded heart, and the engineer for all of his genius wasn’t sure of what to make of that, so he just stopped asking himself and just basked in the happiness that reared its warm fleeting head every time Bruce was there with him.

He’d even let the billionaire bring him out of his maze and into the world, as difficult of a process as that had been, and even then it was just at its beginnings, as people tended to scatter and flee when they saw him, before realizing that: No, he wasn’t an again-revived Jerome Valeska and Yes he was there side-by-side with Bruce Wayne.  
Still even after the realization, people tended to be hesitant when talking to him, like they were waiting for him to snap, and go absolutely crazy like his twin before him.

Jeremiah was starting to get used to that though, the side-glances, the whispered comments behind his back, honestly he couldn’t care less of what the other gothamites thought as long as Bruce was there with him, and as long as he believed in him.

Another thing that came from Bruce’s proximity was the… almost constant danger, one would think that the Prince of Gotham would be protected almost every time he was out in public, and while that was true to an extent, Jeremiah could count many a time in which some criminals had gotten dangerously, too dangerously close to Bruce.

  
Which bring us to now, with Jeremiah dividing his time in: working on the generators, hanging out/working with Bruce and training with Ecco. For if he was to be with Bruce more often than not when he was out for events and such, and after all that Bruce had done for him, the least he could do was protect Bruce. After all he had the build and strength to do it, he just lacked the technique to do it. 

Luckily Ecco was more than happy to help him learn it. In fact she had appeared almost… too happy at his proposition. He, honestly, had yet to comprehend if he had ever accidentally offended her, in some way with his lack of… social finesse, because sometimes it did appear like she was having a bit too much fun in launching him over her shoulder.

Though, all in all, learning how to fight wasn’t that… unpleasant of an experience, in fact, Jeremiah quite liked it. Moving so much, so fast, feeling his muscles ache after a long training session did leave him feeling more alive  than ever. 

_Maybe just maybe he was beginning to get why Jerome loved fighting so much_ … but just  _maybe_ , after all he wasn’t as unhinged as his brother… no, scratch that, _he wasn’t unhinged_ … _at all_ .

And if he smiled a bit too much when training, and had to stifle some unwanted chuckles when he got hit… well that was…  _something nobody needed to know_ .

Honestly Jeremiah never thought that he would actually need to defend Bruce all by himself, he just preferred being prepared if needed be. But he… again he never actually thought he would need it.

So color him surprised when a few minutes after they had ended the presentation for the generators to the grand public of Gotham, mostly rich families, some rising entraprenours and, of course, the press, the entire ballroom of one of the most prestigious hotels of Gotham went…  _dark_ .

Jeremiah heard the steps before he even got to see the figures moving in the dark. “Bruce, get behind me” he whispered urgently.  _Was he sure that he could take someone down in an actual fight… well, no… was he going to try anyway? Hell yes. For Bruce, he’d do anything._

_ But seriously, were the hell was the GCPD? _

There were a few more moments of silence, the people in the ballroom starting to calm down even though the lights were still out. Then somebody shot in the air, high against the ceiling, people started screaming and scattering, the shadows became more defined as people dressed in mismatched outfits with face-paint on.  
  
_Of course. Jerome’s cultists. Who else could have been?_

_ Even dead his brother was set into ruining his life.  _

Still Jeremiah steadied himself, while trying to get Bruce safe, but Bruce, always heroic, always such a knight in shining armor didn’t want to leave until he was sure that the people in the room were safe, which of course they weren’t.

“Nobody is gonna get hurt” the guy with the rifle yelled. “Oh, well nobody is gonna get hurt too badly… we are here just for two people.” 

_ Again, were the hell was the GCPD? _

“Bruce Wayne and… _Jeremiah Valeska_ ” Rifle-Guy said his name with such venom that would have almost surprised him if it wasn’t for… well, for the fact that he already knew that those cultists wanted his head on a spike. Or maybe wanted to bring the _crazy_ out of him, one or the other.

Jeremiah didn’t care, and remaining on the stage, as hidden as they, he and Bruce, were behind the podium was making him feel a bit… exposed.

“We have to go…” he whispered to Bruce, his hand still tightly grasping his own.

“We can’t, you heard him… they’ll hurt them, we can’t let that happen.” Bruce answered back.

“They’ll hurt them either way. At least you’ll be safe.” 

“So where are the little Prince and the Impostor?” Rifle-Guy asked harshly, shooting another hole in the ceiling for good measure, making people scream and duck down even more than they already had. Still, nobody talked, probably because they were frozen in fear. “Nobody wanna tell us?… Well then… we’ll all play a game. For every let’s say five minutes that those two cowards remain hidden I’ll shoot two people, seems fair right?” Another shot, more screaming. 

_ Fuck. Fuck. Fuck… what the hell was he supposed to do?! _ He couldn’t take on someone with a fucking rifle. He wasn’t even sure he could take somebody  _ without _ a rifle.

Jeremiah felt Bruce tugging on his grip, as he tried to… to go out of hiding.

“Bruce you… can’t. That’s… they’ll kill you.” 

“And if I don’t somebody will surely be killed, his followers like to put up a performance we… we could be fine…”  
  
“But we couldn’t, I can’t let you get hurt.” 

“Jeremiah, please. We… I can’t stay here knowing that if I do someone will get killed because of me.” Bruce whispered, no pleaded. And Jeremiah couldn’t, couldn’t resist him even if he wanted. Like he hadn’t been able to resist him the first time he asked him to put his life at risk for protecting everyone, because nobody had ever looked at him before and seen just him and not Jerome’s shadow.

“O… Okay, but if I tell you to run, please, Bruce, run. No need to be.. heroic, alright? I couldn’t bear to see you hurt.” Jeremiah said back as he tried to get his heart in check, he had to be calm, to be ready. Just like Ecco taught him. 

Bruce nodded.

“Well it seems that those two really are cowards, uh? Oh, well…” Rifle-Guy started, they heard somebody somewhere in the room cock their gun.

“Stop! Don’t shot anybody, we are here!” Bruce basically yelled as he got up and away from the podium, Jeremiah followed suit.

Rifle-Guy smirked. “Well, well, well, the Prince and the Imitator,  have been waiting a long time to kill the both of you.”

Someone yelled a ‘ _yeah!_ ’, while another of the cultists yelled a ‘ _kill them!_ ’

Rifle-Guy pointed their gun at them, Jeremiah tensed, Bruce did the same. They could run, but even if they did there was the chance that he would get them anyway simply by moving the rifle while spraying bullets.

  
Then an idea came to Jeremiah half-panicked mind, and he just hoped that it would work.

“You call me an Imitator, but I’ve never tried to imitated my brother, in fact, I did quite the opposite” he said, his voice surprisingly steady, Bruce looked at him, Jeremiah didn’t dare to let his eyes move away from the maniac with the rifle.

Rifle-Guy laughed, and harsh sound more like a bark than a real laugh. It felt like he was making fun of him, which irked Jeremiah quite a bit. He could put up with people speaking behind his back, he could put up with people scared of him because they couldn’t see that he wasn’t his brother, but he couldn’t absolutely stand someone making fun of him.

“You don’t need to, you look like him, you sound like him…” the guy said.

“Do you even know what being _twins_ means? We were born the same” Jeremiah snapped before he could even stop himself, he faulted his quicker temper to his fear, and to his trying to buy them some more time. And yet he realized to have said the wrong words only after he had said them.

“ _Born the same_ , you say? And yet, here you are… all dolled up and acting like one of these rich bastards.” Rifle-Guy said before laughing once again, this time he was definitely mocking him, and others of the cultists joined him.

And Jeremiah got another crazy idea, maybe the _craziest_ he had since this whole ordeal had started. “Bruce, promise me you’ll stay here” he said, his voice low almost drowned out by the sound of the laughs.

“Jeremiah what…?”

“Promise me”

“I… alright, I’ll stay here…” He said confused, then his eyes caught on something. “Jeremiah… what are you planning?… Jeremiah?”  
  
Jeremiah smiled at him, as he gripped his knife, that had been since now well hidden in his sleeve, a trick he had taken from his brother, a quite literal ace up the sleeve. “Just trust me.” then he took a step forward, pretending to not hear Bruce’s worried call of ‘Jeremiah!’ as he spoke up to Rifle-Guy, cutting off his laugh. “Do you want to see, how similar me and Jerome are? Alright, I’ll show you.” he said, a slight smile on his lips, his heart beating so fast that it was a miracle he hadn’t passed out yet. “Fight me.” he added, drawling out his vowels in a way that was quite unlike himself, but had the desired effect as Rifle-Guy threw his rifle to one of the other cultists, a dangerous glint in his deranged eyes.

Jeremiah all but jumped down the stage, knife in his hand, he tried to relax his grip a bit so to not hurt himself when he would strike managing it just barely. “Come on, what are you waiting for? An invitation?” 

He hadn’t expected Rifle-Guy to move so fast at his taunt, yet he managed to avoid his fist so that was good.

Jeremiah avoided another rapid punch from the guy, parring the hit with his unarmed left arm, deflecting the hit and giving himself a brief window of opportunity, but instead of stabbing the guy as he could have done, because he was almost afraid that Bruce wouldn’t forgive him if he tainted himself with murder, he headbutted him, making Rifle-Guy take a few steps back. 

Luckily for himself he had lost his glasses somewhere between the first shot against the ceiling and his rush behind the podium, because if he hadn’t he couldn’t have hit the guy as he had just done.

Jeremiah though didn’t gave Rifle-Guy the time to readjust, or tried not to. Rifle-Guy was apparently quite used to get hit in the head as it didn’t confuse him that much bar for the stepping back, as he rushed forward again.  Jeremiah ducked under his first punch, moving behind him, kicking him in the back of the knee, making him crash down, and from the yelp it must have hurt too.

Without thinking, Jeremiah blocked Rifle-Guy's arms behind his back, as Ecco had taught him, and for added flair pressed the blade of his knife against the guys throat.

“Is this similar enough?” Jeremiah asked. “Or do you need more?”

Rifle-Guy barked another laugh. “Still a coward, your brother would have slit my throat here and now.”

“So eager to die?” Jeremiah asked. A dark part of him whispering to just give him what he wanted, to end this here and now. But he couldn’t, that wasn’t right. _Bruce wouldn’t have liked it_.

“Jay, shoot the brat” Rifle-Guy said.

Jeremiah eyes widened at that, as he saw somebody raise their gun, point it to Bruce.  
  
_No! Nonononono!_  
  
Jeremiah’s mind went practically blank, moving by simple instinct. Letting whatever was whispering in his thoughts take control as he had no time to fight it. 

He slit Rifle-Guy’s throat, in anger, vengeance,  _pure and simple fear._

Raising on his feet, and throwing his knife against that ‘Jay’.

The loud thunder of the shot, sounded just a moment before his knife hit the mark, making the other cultist crash down, with a knife lodged in the side of his head. But Jeremiah didn’t care, his eyes only on Bruce, Bruce that had just fallen on the stage.  
  
_Bruce that wasn’t getting up._

_ Bruce. Bruce. Bruce. _

Jeremiah didn’t even felt like he had moved before he was back on the stage.

“Bruce? Please, be alright.” He whispered, his heart up in his throat, his vision too blurry. He couldn’t see… _Oh, God, please, let him be alright. Let him be fine…-_

“I’m alright, he didn’t get me…” Bruce said, now slowly getting up.

Then the lights went back on, making Jeremiah hiss at the sudden light, cops swarmed the ballroom, arresting all the cultists they could get.

Jeremiah let his eyes move over Bruce, checking if he was actually fine.

“Is that… blood? Jeremiah are you hurt?” Bruce asked worried, his eyes searching for a possible source of the blood.

_Wait… there was blood on him?_   
  
Oh… his hand and arm, and part of his face were covered in blood, sprayed from the neck of Rifle-Guy as he cut his throat.

“Yes… I mean, yes it’s blood… I’m not hurt. It’s not mine.” Jeremiah fumbled.

And slowly realization downed on Bruce, as his eyes moved from Jeremiah to were Rifle-Guy was, collapsed on the floor, with a growing pool of blood under him. And then to Jay, his wannabe-murderer, that had Jeremiah's elegant butterfly knife sticking out the side of his head.

_ Now, Bruce would hate him. He would want to stay as far away from him as he could.  _

_ He wasn’t just Jerome’s unlucky twin brother, he was a murderer, just like his brother… _

_ Bruce would hate him. _

_ He would- _

“Jeremiah...Jeremiah are you alright?”

  
  
“I… I’m sorry” was all that Jeremiah could say, as the police finished securing the area. He should maybe turn himself in?  Maybe they wouldn’t send him into Arkham if he did… or maybe they would anyway just to be sure. 

“You are… sorry? It’s not your fault… you were scared, you didn’t want to kill them, right?” Bruce’s voice brought him back to reality once again. Oh, sweet dear Bruce, he was such a dear heart. Yet he didn’t see him as a monster so… maybe he wasn’t?

“I… I was… I… I wasn’t thinking” he said after a moment, still not having the courage to look up into Bruce’s eyes. “I… was _scared_ … for you. When… when he told that… person to shoot you… I just… I…” he fell silent for a moment, as Bruce took one of his hands, the clean one, between his. Jeremiah mustered the courage to look up into his eyes, they weren’t disgusted, there was compassion, understanding all that Jeremiah didn’t even hope for was there. “ _You are my best friend, Bruce_ …. In fact I… I can say _you are my very best friend_ , I… I couldn’t let you get hurt, I don’t know what would have happened if you had…”

“It’s alright, Jeremiah. It… it was self-defense… they’ll understand. I understand.”

“You… you think?” 

Bruce nodded, giving him a slight smile, which looked as genuine as his words sounded.

Captain Gordon was, finally, nearing them after having coordinated the operation. He took one look at Jeremiah, and it didn’t take much to understand that he got what had happened and from the way his hand went to the gun he had already holstered, it didn’t took a genius to get that he thought Jeremiah was dangerous.

But Bruce didn’t let his hand go, instead gripping it tighter. “And, Jeremiah? _You too are my best friend_.” 

  
  
_And with that? Knowing that Bruce didn’t hate him, that he considered him is best friend even after… killing someone?_

  
  
_With that Jeremiah could withstand anything._

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so Jeremiah isn't... exactly sane... but I have my reasons for it... hope this doesn't ruin the story for anyone...


End file.
